Silence
by cjtylr74
Summary: After Lindsay's scare, who will be there to help her? Spoilers for Not What It Looks Like.


**_A/N:_** I have never written for NY before, but this idea came to me as "Not What It Looks Like" ended. I know that it doesn't follow with what happened last week, but I can live in my own happy world, right? Anyway, let me know what you think!

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_Silence. Then a flash of light and smoke. Suddenly there's chaos. Guns start firing and people are shouting. I'm dive to the floor trying to cover my head. Finally, the smoke clears, and I'm looking down on myself as I hear Danny cry my name. He lifts me, and I see the blood pouring from my chest. I try to scream, but no one hears. No one knows I'm dead. I reach for Danny, but he slips just out of my grasp._

I jerked awake with a gasp. The nightmare had me in it's grasp once again. It was the same dream I'd had almost every night. It always ended the same way, with me dead. I couldn't shake the terror and fear away no matter how hard I'd tried. During the day, I was fine, but night was a different story. I was starting to crack, and I knew it would only be a matter of time until I was found out. I picked up the phone.

" 'Lo," mumbled the voice on the other end.

"Danny," I whispered.

"Mmm," was all I heard. Then, I could tell that everything had kicked in. "Lindsay?"

"Hey," I answered back.

"Lindsay, do you have any idea what time it is? I know how much of a fan you are of sharing your clever ideas on our newest case, but it is the freakin' middle of the night! Couldn't you at least wait until the sun's come up?" The frustration in his voice was obvious.

Humiliated, I was completely unable to answer. What had I been thinking? He wasn't going to want to hear that I'd had a bad dream in the middle of the night. Danny wasn't exactly that kind of guy. I'd trust my life with him at a crime scene, but we certainly wouldn't be sitting down at Starbucks anytime soon to dish about our co-workers.

He heard the silence that stretched between us and sighed, "God, Lindsay, I'm sorry." He sighed again, and I could almost visualize him running his hand through his hair. "I know you wouldn't call for a stupid reason like that. Tell me what's wrong."

I opened my mouth and was horrified when nothing came out but a strangled sob.

Now there was panic in his voice, "Lindsay?"

"I – I'm sorry," I managed.

"Okay, you know what, you hang tight," he told me. "I'm on my way over."

I was astonished when my bell rang just fifteen minutes later. I tried to swipe the last of my tears away as I opened the door. I was determined to act cheerful even if it killed me. Danny read me like a book, however.

"Did you fly here?" I greeted him, faking my cheerfulness.

Without answering, he reached out and a lone tear that was still sliding down my cheek. "What's going on, kiddo?" he asked me softly.

Like a dropped glass I broke. The tears began streaming down my face faster than I could stop them. He pulled me into his arms and whispered reassurances as I sobbed. Finally, and eternity later, the storm was spent, and I rested against him, exhausted.

His hand smoothed down my hair a couple of more times before he pulled away. Cupping my face in his hands, he looked directly into my eyes, "Alright, now, I want to know exactly what's going on."

I couldn't look into his eyes, so I pulled away and walked into my living room. "I'm sorry," I apologized for what seemed the hundredth time. "I just didn't know who else to call."

He shrugged, "I don't mind that you called me. I know something's been bugging you lately, hasn't it?"

I stared, amazed. "How did you know?"

He shifted slightly and looked down at his feet. "Nothin' really. I just noticed you've been more tired lately, and you just about took Mac's head off the other night at the crime scene. That, more than anything, tells me that something's off."

"Do you think anyone else has noticed? I didn't know I was so easy to read."

"I think that you and I both know that I know you better than anyone else at work," he replied looking deeply into my eyes.

Embarrassed, I looked away. "Do you want some coffee?" I asked leading him into the living room.

He dropped onto the couch and patted the spot beside him. "Come sit down and tell Dr. Danny what's wrong."

I smiled and sat beside him. "It's stupid, really." I began. "It's just this bad dream I've been having lately."

"What about?"

"The drop I made in that jewelry store case. I keep dreaming about the gun pointing at my face. Then the grenade goes off, and you guys rush the room. Only, every time in my dream I end up dead." I began to cry. "I'm looking down on the whole scene from above, and I see you picking me up. I try to talk to you, but you can't hear me! No one can. And that's where I wake up, usually drenched in sweat."

His eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Linds," he whispered. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

I wiped my eyes. "I don't know. I guess I thought you guys would think I was a wimp or something, and I didn't want anyone to look at me that way."

"What? Why did you think that?"

"Because, I've always been the little country girl. I mean, half the time you don't even call me by my name. I'm always 'Montana' I guess I wanted to react the way I thought a New York cop was supposed too. I'm tired of feeling like I don't belong."

He reached over and touched my cheek. "You have no idea how silly that is."

"I know it is," I answered, frustrated. "But that's the way I feel."

"So instead, you stop sleeping, and you are snapping at your boss at work. You keep doing that, and you'll be on your way back to Montana."

"Danny, the last thing I really need is a lecture."

He looked down at his feet. "I guess I should tell you that I was pretty frightened that day, too. You didn't see me in that truck, rocking back and forth and praying that everything would be OK." Reaching out, he took my hand. "I can't tell you how it felt when I walked into that room, and I couldn't find you. That's a feeling I don't ever want to repeat."

"What am I going to do?"

He smiled at me. "Well, the first thing we can do is get some sleep before we have to go back to work. Then, tomorrow, I'll introduce you to the department psychologist. I think you need to talk to someone who's a lot smarter than me."

I smiled at him. "You know, Danny, you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for."

He gave me a wry smile back. "I know, but right now, I'm so tired, I can't come back with a smart answer."

I got ready to push myself off of the couch. "I'll get you a blanket."

He grabbed my hand before I could pull away. "Are you going to have any more nightmares?"

I shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Stay here with me. I'll keep them away."

I settled back on the couch and pulled the throw from the back of the couch over us. Danny put his arm around me and pulled my head onto his shoulder. "Sleep," he whispered.

And the silence of the apartment fell over us as I slept better than I had in a week.


End file.
